


Supplication

by raspberrybeanie



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Throne Sex, light powerplay, royals behaving badly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 16:23:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10136567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspberrybeanie/pseuds/raspberrybeanie
Summary: "He tugs her hand gently, leading her to the wide throne, all severe angles and lines of carved marble and obsidian. She allows herself to be seated on it, perched on the edge – a lady being given her seat by a gentleman.Except that this seat is the throne of Lucian kings, the ancestral seat of Noctis’s entire lineage. This is the seat of Noctis’s power, and he – he is not joining her.No, once Luna is seated, Noctis comes to kneel in front of her, face level with her knees, gazing up to meet her eyes."(Or, TL;DR: Noctis eats Luna out on his knees in the throne room.)





	

The surprising thing is that it was Noctis’s idea.

He’d had a blush staining his cheeks when he’d asked for it, of course; it started with a delicate strawberry-juice splash at the tips of his ears, and deepened to a full-bodied wine red as he quietly laid out the suggestion into the hair’s breadth of the space between them, bashful in the soft, downy contours of their marriage bed.

But still, he’d suggested it. Still, it was _his_ idea. And Luna had found the brazenness of it, the mental images it conjured that made her stomach swoop low in heat and her breath catch somewhere in her suddenly overwrought lungs, were enough to make her acquiesce easily.

So, that is how Luna finds herself hand in hand with her husband after most respectable and decent people are all in bed, sneaking through the palace corridors as if they are thieves in the night rather than the King and Queen of Lucis.

Of course, given what they are about to do – she feels a shiver of anticipation run through her at the thought of it – perhaps that’s only fitting.

Neither of them has spoken a word to the other since they closed the door of their bedroom behind them. It only serves to highlight the illicitness of their plans for the evening; the air between them seems charged by the silence, the skin of her palm prickling all over where her hand is joined with Noctis’s. Luna’s body, the whole of her, is a coiled spring as they reach the door that leads to the upper level of the throne room.

The spell lifts once they’re safely through, closing it tight after them. It’s a small, discreet door, purposefully designed to be so, compared to the immense, carved doors that those seeking an audience must pass through. But in the cavernous emptiness of the dark throne room, the sound of it being pushed to still echoes.

The sound, or maybe the knowledge that they’ve reached their destination, makes Noctis laugh, low and sudden and wonderful.

“Well,” he says, “we made it.”

“We did,” she agrees. And then, because they are alone, and because she can, Luna uses the hold she has on his hand to draw him close and kiss him.

She intends it to be chaste, at first: nothing more than a soft press of lips on lips, a promise of things soon to come. A gentle reminder of what this nighttime excursion is _for._ But the tightly coiled spring of her desire has other ideas. It’s simply all too easy to allow her lips to open, guiding his to follow her as the single kiss deepens into a series of them, slow and languid and hot.

Luna indulges herself in the moment, lets herself fall into the sensations of the next kiss, and the next: Noctis’s breath, warm and heavy and insistent against her lips, in her mouth. His teeth, gently pulling at her lower lip so that he can caress it between both of his. The shape of his mouth as Luna allows herself to grow bolder, to stake her claim on him with her tongue, pulling a ragged gasp from him that sends the beat of her pulse straight down, striking up the beginnings of an insistent, heavy throb between her legs.

Luna’s hands are cradling Noctis’s face when she breaks them apart, breathless and wanting. His hands, in turn, are a hot pressure bracketing her waist, running slowly up and down her sides as the two of them catch their breath. The touch is maddening; she feels his thumbs stop just below her breasts as they sweep up, his fingers only lightly grazing the line of her hips as they brush back down. Luna can feel herself swelling with every teasing touch, a dull, pleasurable ache of want as she urges his hands to take their journey higher, or lower; either would do.

“So,” Noctis says; there’s an edge of a laugh in his voice that’s tempered by the soft hoarseness there. “ _You’re_ into this.”

She cannot even pretend to be embarrassed.

“Yes,” she says simply, refusing to be coy. She pushes the length of her body against his, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. There’s a hardness against her that sends a thrill shooting down her legs; it would seem that she’s not the only one into this.

Just as well, since it was his idea.

A thought strikes her; she smiles against Noctis’s jaw. “So much so,” she adds, low and teasing, “that we had better get on with what we came here to do, lest we become too distracted to make good on our plans.”

Not that that wouldn’t also be a pleasant outcome; an image flashes through her lust-addled mind, of them continuing as they are right here in the shadow of the colossal brass carvings surrounding the throne, Luna’s back pressed against the cold metal.

She shivers at the thought. Another time, perhaps, she thinks, her face flushing with heat at the salaciousness of it; as if taking their sex to the Lucian throne room even once wasn’t already enough!

But for now, they have business with the throne.

The reminder of it sends a shiver through Noctis as well; she feels it, a full-body shudder against her.

“Yeah,” he breathes, barely above a whisper as he presses his mouth against her hairline. “Alright.”

He pulls back from her, the sudden departure of his hands from her sides leaving a cold absence that has her longing. He takes one of Luna’s hands in both of his instead, brings it from his face to press a kiss to her knuckles that seems absurdly chaste and formal, given the circumstances.

Maybe he realises it, too; she can see that behind her hand, there’s a hint of a lop-sided smirk tugging at one of the corners of his mouth.

She can’t help but smile back. “ _Noctis_.”

“I know.”

He tugs her hand gently, leading her to the wide throne, all severe angles and lines of carved marble and obsidian. She allows herself to be seated on it, perched on the edge – a lady being given her seat by a gentleman.

Except that this seat is the throne of Lucian kings, the ancestral seat of Noctis’s entire lineage. This is the seat of Noctis’s power, and he – he is not joining her.

No, once Luna is seated, pulse throbbing anew between her legs, lazy and continuous and – _oh_ , now that she’s sat down she can truly feel how sensitive she’s become as the surface of the throne presses against her, how her wetness is already seeping through to her underwear – once Luna is seated, Noctis comes to kneel in front of her, face level with her knees, gazing up to meet her eyes.

Part of her can’t believe that they’re doing this. That _she_ is doing this; sitting on Noctis’s throne, wet and wanting, with him on his knees in front of her, waiting and attentive.

It’s a giddy, heady thought; she reaches out her hands to card them through Noctis’s hair, a brief reprieve before they continue. His eyes fall shut; he takes a deep, shuddering breath, and lifts his hands to run them up and down her thighs. The thin material of her nightdress catches and comes with him, sending a trail of goosebumps along her skin as his hands press insistently into the soft flesh of her thighs.

“Kiss me,” Luna says, her voice more unsteady than she wants as Noctis’s thumbs just barely graze the junction of her thighs and hips. She’s already bending to find his mouth, but even so he has to strain up as high as he can on his knees to meet her in the middle; there’s a power in that, and it goes straight to her head, already fogged from the anticipation of _wanting,_ before it spirals giddily down to where she’s wet between her folds, aching with the need to be touched.

Her legs spread apart easily as she kisses Noctis, pushing down against his mouth, against the way he’s straining desperately to kiss her back while still remaining on his knees. His hands push against her inner thighs, widening the gap between her legs, dragging the drapes of her dress up over her knees until they gather at the top of her thighs. Instinctively, she rolls her hips down, her slick underwear rubbing against her slick body, against the hard lines of the throne beneath her; the sensation makes her gasp into Noctis’s mouth, a hard shudder running through her legs.

 _Not yet_ , she thinks. _Not yet._

She tears herself away from the kiss with a harsh, “Wait,” and tries to collect herself. Fights the urge to just roll her hips down again, and again, until she brings herself off simply from the pressure of pressing her folds and her clit down against the throne beneath her. That’s not what this is for – it’s not what Noctis wanted from this.

It’s not what Luna wants, either.

So she forces herself to breathe, and to remain still, while Noctis’s thumbs rub impatient circles into her inner thighs. He’s breathing hard, too, she notices with some satisfaction. There’s something hot and urgent in his eyes when she meets them with hers, the deep blue fogged over by arousal, and – yes, he is absolutely as undone by this as she is.

Six _above_ , she can hardly believe that this was a thought that sat inside his head for who-knows-how-long, but she is selfishly, absurdly glad that he shared it with her.

“I think,” she says, once she thinks she can trust herself to speak again, ”that we’re both entirely too clothed for this.”

Noctis’s smile is a slow, gentle warmth; Luna doesn’t think that she will ever tire of it. She drags a hand down his face, and he turns his face to kiss her palm.

“Yeah, a little,” he says, a teasing lilt in his tone. His eyes flick back up to her. “Should we do something about that?”

Luna laughs, but his words set off a spark in her brain, an idea that seizes hold of her and refuses to let go. She wonders, for an instant, if it would be a step too far.

Then she remembers where they are, and what they’re already doing, and what they have already done tonight. She thinks that, if there was a step too far, they passed that step perhaps a half marathon ago.

“Well,” she says, before she can lose her nerve, “perhaps _you_ should.”

Noctis’s breath hitches against her palm, his hands going still as stone against her thighs. She watches his face intently as his expression goes from surprise, to shock, to what is undeniably _interest_.

“Luna,” he breathes, a shuddering exhale against her skin. He looks up at her, eyes wide, and nods.

“Yeah,” he says, “yeah, okay, just let me—“

Their hands slip away from each other, and Luna settles into her new position as she looks down at him. She allows herself to be greedy as she watches Noctis sit back, lets her eyes rove over every inch of him as his hands hurry to pull off his t-shirt, his sweatpants, the sneakers he hastily pulled on just before they left their bedroom because they were the closest thing to hand.

It’s not slow, as he strips for her, not anything like a tease, and she doesn’t want it to be. As he reaches to pull down his boxers, tugging them off over his ankles, he moves almost immediately to kneel back down in front of her. The sight of him makes Luna’s mouth dry, sends a fresh wave of hot desire rolling through her like thick honey; Noctis, naked and hard and on his knees for _her_ , for Luna sitting above him, still fully clothed, on his throne.

“You’re perfect,” she tells Noctis in a hushed voice as he reaches for her once more. He shivers; she watches his bare skin ripple with it as his hands settle back on her open thighs, pushing all the way up her skin now to where they join her hips, so close to where she’s hot and so, so wet for him.

She watches his eyes widen, knows he must have caught sight of her sodden underwear when he lifts his gaze back to her face, his mouth open and slack.

“Luna,” he says.

There’s something like wonder and awe and reverence wrapped around the syllables of her name, and his mouth is so, so close now to where they both want it, but it’s still not enough.

She reaches down to brush a thumb against his bottom lip, before she firmly pushes his hands away from her thighs, moves to hook her fingers in the waistband of her underwear, to free it from the gathered, bunched material of her nightdress.

“My turn,” she manages, breathless, before she lifts her hips, closing her legs for a brief moment so that she can slide the ruined garment off. It lands somewhere on the floor, she can’t bring herself to care where, and she moves now to shuffle forward to the very edge of the throne, spreading her legs wide as the air hits her slick folds.

Noctis’s breathing stops for a moment as his eyes fix on her, and then he’s breathing out, shaky and stuttering as he leans forward to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to one of her inner thighs, trailing his mouth up.

Luna’s legs tremble with the anticipation of finally, _finally_ having Noctis’s mouth on her, and she lifts a hand, both hands, to bury them in Noctis’s hair, just to anchor herself there. She doesn’t let herself guide or push. Not yet. Just follows him as he finally hovers over her, his breathing hot against her wetness.

“Look at you,” he whispers, and the part of her that can still think of anything beyond _why isn’t his mouth on me yet_ thinks that she should be the one saying that. “Luna – please, I want to, can I—“

Oh. _Oh._ So that’s how he wants to play it.

It’s only fitting, she thinks, drunk on how damnably close he is and wanting, so, so much.

“Yes,” she says, her voice sounding strange and raspy to her own ears. “Yes, but—“ she breathes in, breathes out, and pushes forward, because now she knows what he really wants, “—I don’t want you to use your hands. On _either_ of us,” she adds meaningfully, dizzy at her own daring.

Noctis’s voice escapes him in a quiet, breathy whine.

“Alright,” he says. She looks down at him, watches his hands dance about until they come to rest heavily on his bare thighs, and he says again, “Alright—“

—and then he lowers his mouth onto her, and Luna gasps at the feeling of _finally_ being touched, her fingers tightening their grip in his soft, soft hair as he buries his face between her thighs.

Noctis is always single-minded when he does this, focus narrowing to a sharp point of intensity, and this time is no different. Luna shudders, soft, heaving breaths leaving her as his tongue licks up the sides of her outer folds, gathering up the slick there before he dips, almost experimentally, between them. He gasps against her – she can feel it, sharp and delicious against her skin – when he finds again just how wet she is, and she rocks her hips gently against his tongue, letting him feel it, reveling in the way his tongue glides along her wet, sensitive flesh.

“Noctis,” Luna says, letting her head tip backwards, her voice breaking on a moan around his name to encourage him. She’s so far gone now, now that she has him where she wants him, and it’s only opened up the floodgates so that she just wants _more._ Wants his tongue on her clit, wants him to seal his lips around her and suck, wants to use her grip on him to push his face forward into her and grind against his open, needy mouth until she comes. She wants all of these things, and none of them, and _more_ , and she gasps loudly when she feels his tongue pushing up, the flat of it licking up and back down against the helpless rhythm of her rocking hips, pressing deeper between her folds until—

The flat of Noctis’s tongue catches against the hard bud of her clit, and Luna shakes, feels herself wound tighter as Noctis pauses to take a deep, shuddering breath before he does it again, and again, pushing his mouth against the whole of her as his tongue slides over her clit. He drags the tip of it down over her, curling greedily around the sides of the bud until she can’t stop her legs from shaking against the hard marble of the throne, her knees and calves gripping the sides of the seat in a Titanesque effort to stay put, to keep herself open wide and welcoming for Noctis.

She isn’t going to last. She’s too worked up, was too worked up before Noctis ever even put his mouth on her, and as she chances a look back down at him, breathing hard at every new wave of pleasure, the sheer sight of him sends a fresh roil of fire through her belly that edges her even closer. Noctis’s eyes are closed as he moves his mouth down over her, now pressing hot, sucking kisses over her clit, down between her folds, trailing towards her entrance. His hands are clenched in fists, white-knuckled on top of his trembling thighs, and—

A moan escapes her as she sees his hips rocking in tiny, semi-aborted movements, rolling up into empty air as he seals his mouth over Luna’s hot, slick core, the tip of his tongue just pushing past the very edge of her entrance, teasing at the inside of her.

“Oh,” Luna moans. She’s bent almost double now, her fingers clinging to Noctis’s hair so tightly that it must hurt, but she can barely help herself. She’s close, now – she can feel it, the building of the pressure between her legs as Noctis drags his tongue in short, shallow thrusts inside of her. He presses hard against the sensitive flesh just around her entrance on each stroke and she rolls her hips forwards eagerly to meet him, sparks dancing under her skin. It’s all she can do to keep herself from just giving in entirely, using her grip on his head to take and take and _take_.

“I’m close,” she warns him, high and keening, allowing herself to press his face closer to her slightly, ever so slightly. She feels him gasp out against her, open mouthed as he trails his tongue away from the core of her, mouthing his way back up to her clit and _sucking_.

Luna comes with a low cry, shaking and struggling to keep from trapping Noctis’s head between her thighs as her orgasm takes her, pushing Noctis’s mouth hard against her as her hips shudder unsteadily against him, feeling him work her through it with his tongue on her clit.

Her fingers loosen their grip on his hair in increments. She’s boneless, and heavy in her own body as she slowly returns to herself, breathing heavily as she slumps against the throne. Dimly, she’s aware of Noctis gasping, too – she can hear it, feel it against her, where he’s now pressing softer, less urgent kisses to her. Between each ragged breath, he takes her down as the pulsing of her orgasm slowly subsides into gentle waves, like the warm ocean lapping the edge of the seashore.

When she feels she can move again, she pulls gently at Noctis’s hair, tugging him away to look at his face. He’s covered in her; his lips and chin are glistening with the slick of her in a way that sends a softer afterthought of desire coiling through her, the warm, gentle steam of it curling upwards through her entire body.

“Wow,” is all Luna can say at first, before she leans forward and down to kiss his dear face, pressing soft kisses over each eyelid. She feels him laugh, shaking with it; hears the unsteady neediness in it as he leans his face up into her kisses.

“Luna,” he says when she pulls back, his voice a hoarse rasp from having had his mouth engaged with other matters for so long. She watches as his hands clench and unclench over his thighs, curling into the skin there; lets her eyes linger over his neglected cock, still hard and straining upwards. “ _Please._ ”

There’s something about that word, so rare out of Noctis’s mouth, which makes her take in a gentle gasp. Briefly, she thinks: Noctis has opened a dangerous door here. She wonders if he knows.

All she does, though, is nod, gently rolling her dress back down to cover herself as she looks down at him, still on his knees in front of her.

“You can do it,” she says, her voice only slightly unsteady. “Slowly,” she adds, as a sudden afterthought.

Noctis blinks at her, wide-eyed, before he huffs in strangled amusement. “Don’t think it’ll make a difference by now,” he admits, and the flush of arousal on his face deepens. “I – I’m, um, already pretty close.”

Hearing him say it thrills her. She already knows, of course, how much what he just did with her affected him, felt it, saw it with her own two eyes – but there’s something different and oh so sweeter about hearing it from his own lips.

Luna watches in rapt attention, settles back as Noctis reaches for himself and wraps a hand around the base of his cock, breathing in sharply at the contact. She feels an echo of that heady rush of power from before when, true to her words, he strokes up slowly towards the head, shaking all over. He meets her eyes as he slides his hand back down, his mouth open in heavy, unsteady breaths as he sets a pace for himself, building up a steady rhythm that Luna greedily takes in with her eyes, eager for every movement of Noctis’s hand on his own cock.

Noctis is quiet, as a lover; as he is in most things, she thinks. So it’s the change in his breathing that tips Luna off as she keeps him fixed under her gaze; the stutter in the rhythm of it, the hitching before he bends over double and comes in his hand with a loud gasp from the back of his throat, shaking and shuddering in much the same way Luna did a scant few minutes earlier.

He wasn’t lying, before; it didn’t take long at all.

Luna lets herself slip off the throne, wincing slightly at the way her dress sticks to her legs, and kneels next to Noctis, pulling him close and pressing kisses to his hair and forehead. She lets her hands ghost softly, feather-light, over his back as he drifts back down, his breathing slowly evening out and returning to normal.

“Uh,” Noctis says against the shell of her ear after a moment, drawing in a breath that’s still unsteady, “So, I’m with you. ‘ _Wow_ ’ was right.”

Luna can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of her as she buries her face in his bare shoulder.

“It certainly was,” she agrees, happy and sated and feeling _very_ much debauched as she smiles against his skin. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sit through an audience in this room ever again.”

“At least not with a straight face.”

Noctis shifts in her arms, pulls back to press his forehead to hers. His mouth is still slick from her. Without thinking, she gathers the skirt of her nightdress over one hand and wipes the worst of it off; it’s not as if the thing wasn’t already a lost cause, anyway. She sends a silent apology to the poor staff in charge of their laundry. Then, she leans in to press a soft kiss – actually chaste, this time – to his lips.

“We’ll have to move soon,” Luna says, regretfully. “Before someone else comes in and finds us looking so compromised.”

She can only imagine the gossip that would ensue.

Noctis groans in displeasure. “In a minute. I think my legs have gone to sleep.”

“Hm. And whose fault is that?” she teases, though she can’t help but think of his knees, stuck for so long bearing his weight on the cold marble floor.

“Oh, shush.” There’s no heat in his retort, though, and so Luna only chuckles. “Just – a little longer.”

“A minute,” she says firmly. In a minute, they will have to pick themselves up off of the floor. Luna will probably have to support Noctis’s weight for the first few moments as he staggers around gathering up his discarded clothes. They’ll have to locate the underwear she threw away earlier, unless they want to be the target of some _incredibly_ awkward questions. And then there’s the matter of sneaking back to their bedroom in the state they’re in without meeting anybody on the way.

But that can wait. For now, for the next minute, Luna just enjoys holding and being held, and basks in the afterglow.

**Author's Note:**

> so the person to blame for this is my friend, who said she wanted non-vanilla-bland noctluna. alas, being the person I am, I can only manage what is perhaps only aromatically spiced vanilla for all of your aromatically spiced vanilla needs. still, this 4000 words of pwp is dedicated to her and I cannot BELIEVE I am christening my ao3 account with it; also, shout-out to the other two heathens whom i love very much and who also know EXACTLY who they are, for encouraging me to just go for it
> 
> I think it goes without saying that the filth you just read neccesarily takes place in an alternate universe, but I leave the exact nature of this AU, gentle readers, to your good selves. thanks for reading!


End file.
